Sometimes Even Mara Needs To Explode
by Cabitha
Summary: Look above, not really Jara like I usually do. And it does have a sort of song in it, but not really. Oneshot R&R. Not really angst, but it seemed like the best choice.


**Disclaimer: Joyrome happened, need I say more?**

Sometimes, even Mara needed to explode.

There are people in this world, Mara mused, that are doomed to a life of pressure. Even if the only person that creates the pressure is the victim. She bit the end of her pencil lightly. She looked down at her impeccable penmanship, the nearly finished history essay.

Purple ink. She had written her first draft in purple ink. Ms. Valentine would never accept something in purple ink, she'd mark her down! So the choice remained, rewrite now, or work harder later?

Mara had known when she had selected the pen, that it was the wrong color, she had known that she would arrive at this dilemma at some point. It was just that-she sighed as she pulled out a new sheet and a different pen—purple ink was one of the few freedoms that one could come by when one was Mara. One of a select group of little rebellions that she could choose from. But it gave her a thrill. It made her writing feel like it was written in Harold's purple crayon.

She looked at the clock. 8:30 pm. How could time move so slowly? She re-wrote her draft in blue, then began to think about what came next. Arch Duke Ferdinand? What had he ever done for her? Why does he deserve an essay?

She sighed and put the pen down. Clearly this wasn't going to happen tonight, and she had a whole three weeks to do it.

But she just wanted to be free of this, of the large black bags that sunk her eyes. To be free of the A's. They were an entity to her, a sentient being. They governed her life, those A's, and they punished her when they were not pleased.

She let loose her rigid bun and shook out her shoulders and neck. Her neck felt like a bent iron pole, she had been sitting there so long.

Mara sat there for a minute longer. She contemplated going to bed early; the pros and cons. Then she considered her math homework, but that was to painful.

She contemplated Jerome, what a person he was. All the romantic dates that he had taken her on so far, the picnic in the drama lounge, the roof. All the times he had comforted her when her school obsession drove her to hysteria. The irksome Alfie, popping his head up here and there. Making kissy faces and trying to force them to be romantic when they didn't want to be.

They didn't want to be. She didn't want to be.

She didn't want to be sitting here like a dainty Victorian woman, waiting for her family to appear. She didn't want to sit and listen to _calming_ study symphonies that she pretended to enjoy. She didn't want to care about writing in _purple pen_. She wanted…

She wanted…

She wanted…

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to scream so loud that god would come down form heaven and stuff her mouth with the clouds he descended from.

She wanted every singular note that her throat could express to congeal into one incredibly beautiful and treacherous shout that would relieve her of her own expectations.

She wanted to dance with her young blood and feel it move like sparks of flame, allow her limbs to flail in a firework-like paroxysm of emotion.

Her eyes to stream with tears of stardust,

Her face to crinkle like the subatomic plates underneath her, create mountains and valleys in her smooth, impeccable skin.

She wanted to move and live and leave the goddamn chair. Dance in her expression of joy until she felt so light and dizzy that she would fly.

But Mara didn't. Because Mara would _never_.

Never ever.

Her phone began to pulse in her bag. It was the ringtone that Jerome had set in her phone saying "I am your boyfriend, I get my own ringtone, that's the one requirement." It meant that Jerome was calling, but she didn't pick up. Instead she grabbed her computer.

She remembered the band that did the song, she had never let the phone ring long enough to actually hear the song, but it was something about golden carats. She remembered that much. And the band was called Fall Out Boy. She remembered Patricia saying that when she was mad but not mad enough for Metallica or some other metal band, she toned it down to Fall Out Boy.

Mara had never really liked FOB, they weren't really her thing, but there had been one song…

She hit play and slowly stood up

"_Put on your war paint"_

It was a slow call to arms, she grinned, and she began to move her body and shout.

_ You know time crawls on when you're waiting for the song to start__  
__So dance alone to the beat of your heart_

_Hey young blood_

_Put on your war paint_

She sat down again primly, retied her hair and got back to work. She pulled out her purple pen, looked at it and put it back. No one had to know about her small rebellions.

**I just, I just had too guys. I couldn't not write this. I was possessed. So yeah, this is basically something that I've been feeling for a while and with that I could do, so in the fanfiction tradition, I made Mara do it. R and R people! Love you all!**

**p.s I will update adventure as soon as possible, it's just hard to find inspiration with the whole joyrome situation.**


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